Burn
by kodoku
Summary: M/M, INCEST, LagunaxSquall Father and son share some downtime. modified


Author's note: There are two main things to be noted about this piece:

1.) M/M - guys getting it on

2.) INCEST - father and son... getting it on

Just to make sure that was clear, this piece features Laguna and Squall as father and son involved in a sexual relationship. If this isn't your cuppa, then please do stop reading now; mental trauma resulting from ignoring these warnings is your own concern.

This has been heavily modified from its original version, due to ff . net's decision to yank NC-17 fic. Want the smut? Visit my website, b r e a t h e, at breathefiction . com.

If you'd reviewed previously, thank you very much! I'm only sorry that decided to make it impossible to modify the NC-17 files, so all the reviews went the way of the file. Smart move, that.

Final Fantasy VIII is copyright to Square Co., Ltd. Only my obsession with it is my own.

}~,~~ -==- ~~'~{

Burn

Laguna lifted his hair from the back of his neck and sighed as the faint breeze moved sluggishly across his damp skin; in the years since he'd left Winhill, he'd forgotten how hot Centra became in the summer, with the humidity of looming storms heavy in the air. The breeze, although negligible, was a welcome relief from the barrage of heat, and Laguna welcomed its gentle touch as he folded himself down upon the well-worn stairs leading to the beach.

The flow of the ocean tides was a dull roar, and he listened absently as he watched the ongoing battle of dominance between surf and sand. Despite the clouds scudding across the sky, the sun had not yet surrendered and its light glistening over the breaking waves was nearly painful in its intensity. He shaded his eyes with an uplifted hand, squinting over the green-blue of the ocean as he enjoyed the moment's stillness.

Footfalls sounded behind him, a sure tread that he knew as well as his own. Metal jangled lightly as he was joined, an arm sliding familiarly around his shoulders. Warm-cool breath tickled his ear, and he laughed even as he shivered and leaned away from the sensation.

"I like it here," he said in response to the unasked question. He shifted into the loose embrace, his hand finding his son's knee. "Look, there, the sky along the horizon is just the color of your eyes; it's going to storm soon."

Squall's light hum was his only answer before his lips touched behind Laguna's ear, as soft as a sigh. He moved past his father, glancing over his shoulder in invitation as he stepped onto the beach with the grace of the predator he so idolized. He'd long-since discarded his jacket in deference to the heat, and his white T-shirt clung to the breadth of his shoulders in a way that made Laguna waste no time in following him.

Laguna caught Squall's hand as they crossed the sand, thumb stroking familiar patterns over Squall's skin. Squall's breathing picked up even as his steps slowed, halting just above the waterline, and Laguna followed his gaze to watch the waves, capped with white now. The breeze, growing far more enthusiastic, caught the spray and brushed it over their faces in a million tiny kisses, making Laguna shiver with the abrupt chill.

Squall's gaze turned to Laguna at the tremor, one eyebrow lifted curiously as his hand squeezed his father's warmly. "You were right," he murmured, "it is going to storm." He drew Laguna closer, then released him to instead curl his fingers around Laguna's chin, coaxing it down until his lips could reach his father's.

The kiss was warm and welcome, coming home after a long day, and Laguna lost no time in sinking into it. His fingers caught under one of Squall's belts, and gradual pressure soon had their bodies together from mouth to feet, only the thin layers of their clothing separating them. A soft moan escaped Squall and Laguna reined in the sudden urge to laugh; for all that Squall played at being one of Shiva's brethren, he was undeniably flame, devouring all that touched him.

Even banked flames burn.

He would never understand, Laguna mused as he lapped at Squall's lips, how anyone could miss how **brightly** Squall burned. The thin layer of ice encasing the flames melted away with a touch, and Squall became an inferno, hot enough to sear one into nothingness if he was approached incautiously.

His shirt was already unbuttoned and Squall's hands were almost uncomfortably hot on the bare skin of his back when Laguna broke the kiss. "We should go inside," he said, laughter flavoring his voice like crisp autumn apples. "The storm--"

Squall's lips curved with a wicked grin as Laguna's words cut off sharply, then pinched the older man's nipple again. Laguna shuddered like a leaf in the wind, and Squall's lips chased the leap of Laguna's pulse at his throat, soft as thistledown against his skin.

"Not... on the beach," Laguna murmured thickly, dragging his hands away from where they had settled on the rising curve of Squall's backside. "We should at least go inside."

Squall's laugh purred from him as his teeth found Laguna's collarbone and worried it lightly. "Are you afraid of a little storm?"

"No," Laguna answered, hand finding Squall's chin and lifting it until those storm-colored eyes met his, "but there are some places I'd rather not get sand."

Comprehension sparked in Squall's eyes and he laughed, and then they were kissing again and nothing in the world mattered but the slide of Squall's tongue against his.

"Don't care where," Squall growled softly when they parted enough to permit it and, grabbing Laguna's hips, thrust their bodies together. "Want you now."

Laguna's breath escaped in a groan as his cheek rubbed against Squall's hair, his hips pressing against the wall of Squall's belts. "Inside," he said with a firmness that he did not feel; one more kiss would be quite enough to liquefy his resolve.

Thankfully, Squall seemed to take him at his word, releasing him and stepping back slowly. The lazy grin curving his lips did not bode well, though, and it was no great surprise when Squall skived his shirt off and left it to the wind, stepping backwards to the stairs, naked from the waist up.

As though on a leash, Laguna followed and, where tumbled columns blocked the stairs, caught his son again. Just close enough to reach, he deftly undid Squall's belts, two falling to be quickly forgotten as Laguna's knuckles brushed over the heat confined within Squall's pants. Squall's groan was a high, breathless sound, and all he could do was jerk helplessly, eyes squeezing shut as his hands reached for Laguna.

Laguna was idly nuzzling Squall's tensed thigh when Squall pried his eyes open some time later and forced his fingers to loosen from their death-grip in the silver-streaked hair. "Bastard."

Laguna chuckled, lips sampling the juncture of Squall's thigh and torso. "Tsk," he scolded, adding a soft bite for good measure, "don't you know to respect your elders?"

"It's difficult to remember anything about respect when your pants are around your ankles," Squall grumbled, but any sting was taken out of it when his hand lightly caressed Laguna's hair. "Let's go inside."

Laguna caught Squall's hand in a loose grip, tugging it to his mouth to press a warm kiss to the center of his palm. Taking a leaf from Squall's book, he did not answer, only reached to draw Squall's pants back into place as he straightened. In his ascent, his lips left a burning trail up Squall's torso, hovering briefly over his Adam's apple before completing their journey at Squall's open mouth. They meshed beautifully, Squall's tongue finding his own taste on Laguna's as their comfortable union gave way once again to increasing heat.

"Inside," Squall murmured breathlessly against Laguna's mouth, his hands finding frosted hair and stroking fitfully. "I want a proper bed."

"Squall," Laguna began hoarsely, then shook himself sharply and stepped away from Squall as though he'd been burned. "Inside," he agreed, unable to keep from returning his son's grin as Squall lifted his legs and swung them over the column on which he half-sat, landing lightly on the far side. It was with no small measure of pride that Laguna vaulted the granite blockade to join him; even before he'd met Squall, he'd kept himself in shape, and the stamina necessary to keep up with the young SeeD commander had honed his body to a peak that surpassed even his days in the army. Squall's appreciative gaze told him that his efforts had not been in vain.

"Laguna," Squall all but purred, fingers curling in a come-hither gesture as he once again backstepped toward the orphanage. Laguna caught him this time before he'd taken more than two steps and fit their bodies together as his lips found Squall's jaw and lightly caressed the thin skin there.

"Who taught you to tease like this?" Laguna murmured as they moved in tandem to the shattered building. Sharp teeth found Squall's earlobe and nipped, drawing a muted groan from Squall as they crossed the threshold. "Should I be worrying?"

"No," Squall answered hoarsely, his hands fisted in the shirt at the small of Laguna's back as his knees hit the edge of the bed near the entrance - Matron's bed, which was somehow odder than the fact that it was his father pushing him down on it. Unbalanced, he sat down hard, then sneezed abruptly as dust billowed up around him.

Hastily removing himself to a safe distance, Laguna laughed as Squall sneezed again. His son looked rather like a ruffled cat; Laguna could nearly see him bristling as he stifled another sneeze, and enacted swift redirection, catching Squall's cheeks in his palms and devouring his mouth in a heated kiss before Squall's annoyance had time to override his arousal.

The tactic worked better than Laguna had expected and, by the time he straightened again, his shirt was sliding to the floor after deft maneuvers of Squall's fingers.

"You're beautiful," Squall murmured as his fingers traced the lines of Laguna's chest to splay over the shadows of his ribs. "You're so beautiful it hurts, sometimes."

Flushing with embarrassed pleasure, Laguna caught Squall's wrists and drew his hands to his lips, brushing a kiss over each fingertip. "I get that from you." His tongue found Squall's palm, delicately tracing the lines there as his gaze held his son's captive, aquamarine eyes locked with blue opal. "You make me burn," he whispered against Squall's skin, breath gusting with each word in extraneous caresses until Squall shut his eyes.

"Laguna," Squall mouthed, little more than a breath, then again. Little more was said as the bed was put to a use it hadn't seen a decade, the creakings of springs competing with the rising winds, the drum of the rain, and full-throated voicings as the storm swelled and broke.

Hyne help him, he had loved this boy when he had thought of him as nothing more than a faerie who occasionally shared his thoughts. When Elle had told him the truth, he had been shaken, but his mind had refused to move from its accustomed path. Meeting the reality that was Squall had only given those desires a direction in which to aspire, a direction with many layers through which to pass.

When one of those layers had peeled back to reveal a flame of desire as bright as his own, Laguna had felt as though someone up there liked him quite a lot. He hadn't looked back.

So it was that he was cradling the spent body of his son in the orphanage in which the boy had been raised. There was no place he'd rather be.

His breath stirred the hair at Squall's temple as he slowly shifted, his lips brushing over the light salt of Squall's sweat. They trailed to press to the corner of Squall's mouth, then Laguna's tongue coaxed Squall's lips apart for a lazy kiss. So lazy, in fact, that Laguna wasn't surprised when he pulled away to find Squall already half-asleep.

Laguna's lips found Squall's eyelids, brushing gentle kisses over them as he gathered his son close to him. Squall inevitably fell asleep after sex; the few times Laguna had attempted to keep him awake, Squall had ended up nose-down as soon as Laguna had looked away. Laguna, on the other hand, felt energized and clear-headed in a way that made him regret that their relationship existed only away from the public eye; with as little as a kiss for impetus, he'd be able to speak so eloquently that Galbadia would be begging for Estharian governing.

Squall shifted, tucking his head against Laguna's shoulder with a soft sound that made the older man smile. It was only moments like this when Laguna truly felt like Squall's father, never mind how rumpled the boy was, or how strongly he smelled of sex. He supposed it should bother him more than it did, really, but it was far more appealing to consider the way Squall smiled when he awoke to find Laguna watching him.

Squall's breathing had evened and deepened into full sleep, and Laguna carefully extricated himself from his son's grip. Pausing only long enough to pull on his pants, he crept silently from the orphanage, clambering over the tumbled columns again and padding down the steps until his feet sank into sand.

Storm clouds were still darkening the horizon as he lowered himself to the sand, his heels leaving furrows in the smooth beach as he stretched his legs out before him. That was one thing he'd missed all those years: weather. Weather had never fit particularly well in Esthar's neat, hygienic scheme, and so had been simply done away with years before Laguna had first stepped upon the translucent highways. It was a shame, really. Weather and its unpredictability made it that much more precious; you could not truly appreciate the fair until you'd weathered the stormy.

It was much the same with Squall, really.

"What are you doing out here?"

Laguna chuckled and extended his arm to his son as he settled beside him and tucked his head against Laguna's shoulder. "Waiting for the storm to break," he answered softly, smoothing the rough silk of Squall's hair.

Squall's answer was more felt than heard, a low hum of acknowledgement against Laguna's shoulder, which made Laguna smile to think of how others would find this behavior hard to believe from the generally-recalcitrant brunette. "You'll get wet, if you stay out much longer."

"You want to go back?"

Laguna knew that his smile was approaching a disgusting level of sappiness, but he couldn't bring himself to care as Squall slid an arm around his waist and settled more comfortably against his side. "We'll weather the storm just fine."

"Be nice afterwards," Squall murmured sleepily, eyelids already drooping again.

"It'll be perfect afterwards," Laguna corrected, resting his cheek against the top of Squall's head. "You'll see."

Squall's only answer was to tighten his arm around Laguna's waist, and Laguna laughed softly before turning his gaze again to the sky.

Together, they watched the storm come, seeing only the clear skies in its wake.


End file.
